Also, it MAY contain spoilers for the Thunderbird's RP. So, if you don't want spoilers. . .you have been warned.

-----Entry 11 Eleint, 1354 DR
I write this journal in a moment of clairity, it feels like I have woken up from a long slumber. My name is A'tun-Bashil'ka Kantha Oboritha, of Dambrath. I was once a slave, until I woke up free man in a new land. The people are strange, the elements are strange. I feel alone in this new home of mine, surrounded by all these things I must learn. I am truely uncertain if this is the dream or not but I suppose it doesn't matter. All that matters is that I am here, for whatever moments of awareness I have left.

I just washed blood off my hands. I am honestly not sure how it got there, but I am matted in fur and battle wounds. I lay at a Shrine of Eldath, I recognize this Goddess from a book. I don't remember reading the book, but I remember its pages. The Shrine is calming, but I feel another pull in my soul, the pull of something foreign yet familiar. I think it wants to help me. I sure could use some help, I discovered that I am rather poor at sewing my own wounds. I feel myself slipping, slowly. I know that it can help me. But, I also want to be me. Perhaps it is selfish of me. I know in my heart that whatever it is, it is not a terrible thing. The Thunderbird knows what he is doing.

How is his name known? How do I know it. How do we exist? I am not sure, and neither is he. He thinks he is close to understanding how to make he and I into we. He just needs a little more time. And his time, means I must slip into that dream again. Lose control, fall forever in that never-ending abyss. It is a wretched existence. But I cannot resist his lull any longer.

He serves nature. And for he and I to become we, I must too. And I can serve nature by letting him back in.

I am gone again. Hello, Thunderbird.

Last edited by metaquad4 on Mon Sep 03, 2018 4:39 pm, edited 2 times in total.

Entry 22 Eleint, 1354 DR
I woke up today (or tonight? It is rather dark out), and decided to go for a drink. It is strange, He hasn't pulled all day. I am still being careful, in this strange land. I am unfamiliar with its rules, and I've had difficulty reading the signs. I really need to learn how to understand this land's languages, I can't be reliant on Him forever. Then again, I'm really not sure if he understands all of them. Or if he cares to. He doesn't exactly care to dwell too much with the people here.

I found a small tavern in this small tent-city of Soubar, and I went for a drink there. Met a bartender, Mag. I don't know if she knows Him, but she was treating me with a measure of familiarity. Though, perhaps she treats everyone like that. Still, I put on an act. "He is the Thunderbird".

I suppose the Thunderbird is just trying to be truthful when he does that. I mean, I am me. I am A'tun. But he is the Thunderbird. But he is me. Or he is in me. Really, I am not sure. Mag gave me a drink, then went to attend to other clients, leaving me in blissful silence. Silence. Its odd, thinking about it. Whenever He is here, I feel nothing but cold, empty, black silence. But now that he is gone, I feel so relieved to have silence within my own thoughts. I can just sit, relax, and take in the sights and sounds of others.

Still, I am not without purpose. I know how dangerous lightning can be. The Thunderbird hugged a mad Fire Soul and practically electrocuted him, reducing him to a whimpering mess but one touch. I've been careful to wear my gloves, and I've been straying away from touching others. I don't know how He stands it. I suppose He doesn't, given his recent. . .drive. . .to make it go away.

I've had some strange encounters of my own, as well. I found a bear rummaging through my tent. I demanded to know why, and he (how did I know it was a he) told me he was hungry. I threw him some food, told him I was dangerous, and he sure was quick to get out. Maybe I have power over bears? I suppose I've always been decent enough with animals, but I've never had a talking one with me before.

Writing this, I feel Him tugging at me again. He needs to do something. I'm not sure what, and honestly, I don't think its my choice anymore. All I know is I serve nature. And I can serve, by letting him in.

Entry 33 Eleint, 1354 DR
I arouse from His dream, wandering down a river. I was unsure why then, but I kept walking along the river until I came to a shack. There was a lock box next to it, which I touched. After I touched it, a bolt of lightning leaped from my hand, knocking half the box clean off and slicing into the shack. While I sat, wrestling the power back under my control, a man greeted me. It took me some time to recognize him, but I felt that tugging in my skull. At the same time, I remembered who he was. . .or did I learn who he was? It feels like I always knew. But, that can't be right. He is Rensari, a warrior the Thunderbird fought with in the past. He greeted me like an old friend, so I played the part of the Thunderbird for him. "He is the Thunderbird." I struggled a little, playing the part a little poorer than I should have. But, I managed well enough, as he did not question me. Perhaps the Thunderbird is as much an enigma to these people as he is to me.

After that, a few other people showed up. Nathan, I recognized. A pleasant enough person, perhaps a little simple. He showed up with a fiend-blooded woman, who turned invisible when she saw me. She is a magus, I wonder if she sensed that. . .I was not the Thunderbird. I am not sure, I doubt she did. Nathan too, greeted me like an old friend. Affectionately, as "Mr Bird Man". I think, perhaps, he might be understanding. I considered telling him. . .but, no. People are duplicitous, and will act in their best interest. And people fear, what is foreign to them. He knows the Thunderbird but knows me not. This burden, I must keep to myself for the time.

Nathan, Rensari, and myself approached the river, where we saw the elf named Oth. . .another dear friend of the Thunderbird. . .and a stuttering woman. The White Pigeon. Why does He call her the White Pigeon. Doves are not pigeons. Perhaps, in some ways, He can be simple too. But, He would not like me saying such. I feel that tugging again, just as I felt it when we met Oth and Dove.

We spoke with Oth, Nathan, and Rensari. We. . .did He speak? No. It was I who spoke. I played the part of Him. But, I felt him all the way through, prodding and tugging, testing and turning my mind. At some point, I felt almost drunk, or sick. Like I was staring down the edge of a cliff. I spoke of cake, devouring monstrous beings, the like. They all were friendly, they seemed agreeable. But, this charade is getting harder and harder. It would be easier just to. . .give in again. To let it end, to fall again. But, life is never easy. My burden is no exception.

Still, I felt myself slipping. By the time Oth departed, I was so drained. I feel myself slipping as I write this, as I felt before. I blacked out, and. . .

But, it doesn't matter what happened after. All that matters is, I serve nature. And I can serve nature by letting him in, as I did before.

Entry 44 Eleint, 1354 DR
The last day was a blur. The Thunderbird and I were wrestling each-other all during the day, all the while trying to keep. . .I don't even know what to call my body. My meat cocoon? . . . We had to keep it calm, obviously, so as to not attract attention. The first time I've ever worked together with someone, while working seperate.

It was trying. It was an odd day too. I am honestly not sure how much of it was in my own head, how much of it was in the Thunderbird's. I danced in and out of that dream-like abyss. Nathan got honey licked off his hand by a blonde elf. A pale, bird-faced elf tried to pay me with his umbrella to kiss Nathan. Kitsy, a fiend-blood, made that blonde elf's feet huge. Othonis the Blue was there, all the while. And another woman was there. Cold, an obsidian dress. A witch's hat. But cold. Chilling, even. She reminded me of. . .home. She reminded me of home so much, I was torn between intrigued and frightened. But, we. . .we. . .we kept our composure. We? Him and I. . .together. I felt him, beside me. He didn't try to wrestle control, he just watched. He fed me a few items. It was. . .bizzare. Is this the We he was trying to do earlier?

I am honestly not sure. I've been free all day, he hasn't called. He slipped into me once, and when he slipt our I was in the same spot, with the taste of alchohol on my lips, and cheap perfume on my body. I was. . .a little confused by this, it was seamless. I didn't even remember the abyss. I think He was testing me. Testing my mind, my form. Perhaps He did something to me.

The last day has been strangely calm. I wandered into the woods, to listen to the birds. They were hungry today, stocking up for their migrations no doubt. I wonder if they go as far as Chult, or just Calimshan. I fed some a few seeds, then I wandered along the river. I caught a fish, and ate it. I think it was screaming in terror, if only it could scream. It was still tasty, so perhaps all was well.

After I feasted on the fish, I travelled along a dirt path on the forest. I could have sworn the forest was singing to me. Perhaps it was just the wind along the trees, or the birds in the air. I knelt down by a tree, and took a nap. When I awoke, judging from the sun about an hour later, I was still myself. I was surprised, my days don't usually last this long.

I continued along the path, when I saw a bird. It was holding a bolt of lightning, and when I blinked, it was gone. A few moments later, I heard a bang. It might have been a thunderclap, or just my imagination. I really am not sure, but sometimes I feel the shadow of something. . .following me? When I turn around, sometimes I see flashes. Other times, I see the shadows rising and taking something in their grasp. Perhaps I am simply losing my mind. Writing this, I think I see a bird in the. . .no, that is silly. I couldn't have. My writing looks. . .like a bird? I've never been an artist, but it seems like I have drawn a bird with my writing in this very journal. All my pages. . .all my writing is like this. Was it always like this?

Entry 57 Eleint, 1354 DR
I meditated today in the woods, listening to the wild sounds. The water, the wind, the bushes, the birds, the animals, the insects. They all made their noise. And other things, too. Things of darkness, things of light. Things of hope, and things of sorrow. I heard many noises among silence.

My mind calms when I meditate. I can separate the noise, order the chaos. Only for a little bit. Sometimes its good to sink into the abyss and just let it drown you. But, sometimes you need to take a breath of air and truly see what you trudge through.

Today, when I surfaced, I was trudging through blood and mud. I bathed in the river before I meditated, washing off the filth and impurities. I'm sure the water appreciated my bringing in all those things, but perhaps it thrives off them. After all, the small creatures will eat at what I have brought, and perhaps a few plants will benefit. For what we consider filth, they consider a blessing. I wouldn't want to be caked in mud, but apparently swamp reeds love the stuff.

I saw a flash of light. Perhaps it has been a warm day. I wonder if the Thunderbird visits in the Dream while I am awake. Maybe He hates it just as much as I do. Or perhaps He is beside me, watching me as I write, read, sleep, and eat. Does He feel me, as I feel Him?

I think I'm going to go hunting, today. I met with my fellow druids and warriors from the circle that. . .I. . .well. That We joined. Sane was a fascinating man, though he was not his talkative self. Is he normally talkative? Yes, yes he is. Apparently, he is normally very chatty on the past, present, future, dark, and light. He was all business today, We think it was a little more dull than normal. Still, We meagerly hunted in the Greypeaks.

We feel a pull. A calling towards the forests. We will go deeper, and hope that We find something of substance. Perhaps a critter is caught in a bear-trap, or perhaps the woods are on fire. My legs will take me, and my eyes will tell me.

After all, We serve nature. And I serve, by letting Him in.

Hello once more, Thunderbird. I close my eyes, and bid you farewell for now.

Entry 610 Eleint, 1354 DR
More whispers. More fire. More water. More life. More darkness. Everything is growing and dying, I feel it around me.

Today, I found a clutch of eggs, from some sort of vermin. They were hidden under some leaf in Cloakwood. I've placed them in a safe space under the tree, where east meets north at earth's mouth. Remember that place, Thunderbird. Keep them safe.

Ordinarily, I would leave them for the birds. The wild intends what the wild intends. But, I felt an unnatural presence around the eggs. Like the feelers of an ant, stretching out into a great dark hole. I am uncertain what is intended of the eggs, but I, in my heart, know that their abandonment was unnatural. They were meant to hatch. And so they shall, under my care.

I heard whispers from them. The eggs, the leaves, the branches. As I spoke a spell to see clearer, the whispers grew louder. I could almost see them. But, as quick as I reached out, they vanished. They faded on the wind, like mere memories of what could be.

I made a fire, careful not to burn the clutch. These eggs were meant to hatch, I am sure of it. I will leave them, and they will thrive. I will let them thrive, and be, and grow. As I sit there, burning away stray leaves and sticks, I heard a voice. I extinguished the fire, and followed the winds. The winds take me where they may, as do they all. My legs had but follow them.

Flowing water met me, as I stepped into a river. The water was cold, and I saw something in it. A creature. A monster. I grabbed it, and peered at it. A leech, perhaps. But no, it was cold and writhing. Something that escaped from its prison. Something that did not belong? I crushed the worm in my hand, feeling cold blood drip down my fingers. It felt right. It felt just. My communion has never led me astray, and nature will always reveal what should be clear. I follow my gut, my instincts. This creature was my hunt, and now it lies dead. Does the wild test me, sending such meager creatures for me to slay? Why were there no fish in that river bigger than this quarry? Strange. But, I do as is needed.

As I return to the eggs, I was pleased. Darkness set around me, and I sat. I spoke the prayers, but I didn't speak to anyone in particular. The wind was not blowing. The darkness was setting around me, not that I can notice in this state. All I can do now, it watch. Watch, wait, and feel.

Feel the tug. The tug of Him? The tug back into the dream? Or the tug towards my duty, my punishment, my joy, and my purpose. Time and being grows one and the same, and everything becomes foggier as my purpose in my heart becomes clearer.

Night is setting. I serve nature. And I can serve nature, by offering this flesh to you.

Entry 714 Eleint, 1354 DR
I opened my eyes, and I saw you staring back at me. All wings and storm. Thunderbird. A dream, perhaps? Or perhaps I am hallucinating. But no. You and I both know you are here, with me. You are always here, with me. Will you always be? Only time will tell.

The clutch finally hatched. Dozens of little spiders, fleeing into the depths of Cloakwood. One, I took. If I were a poet, I might say it was the runt of the little. But, I am not so certain spiders have runts. I took him, and I put him in my satchel. I made it just for him. I conjured webs to keep him safe as I travel. Just in-case I drop him.

He seems to be well. Occasionally, a small insect will find its way into that satchel as I meditate. Not at all from the sweet secretions I placed in its depths. My little spider will feed, and it will grow strong. How strong can a spider grow, I wonder. I intend to find out. I feel that he is satisfied. He grows quickly, as do many insects. Far quicker than bears. Or people.

I went on a hunt today. I used a fishing rod for the first time. Lighting was always quicker, more efficient. But the rod creates the perfect amount of food. Worms are tasty, I can see why the little swimmers seem so attracted to them. Alas, I ate all my bait so I had to fish in a river with my hands. I suppose that shows me, for being such a glutton.

The lake I fished in told me not to hit it. I was rather surprised by this, but I suppose it is understandable. I wouldn't want to be repeatedly struck, just because someone wanted my liver to dine on. Or a parasite in my stomach. My stomach doesn't have parasites in it, does it Thunderbird? You didn't eat any rotting meat, did you? I doubt you did, no. You are more reasonable than that.

I took my fish, and gave the lake some water from my skin as compensation. It seemed pleased, so I continued along my way.

Thunderbird, you have shown me how I can serve nature. And now that I have, we can both be at rest together. I am so pleased. I think I'll name my little one after you. Thunderspider. Beautiful.

I spent the rest of the day picking berries. The abyss in me is gone. New voids are everywhere. Some dark, some light. I must be careful where I stick my hand, lest a maw drag me in. I saw a strange woman cross my path, masked and cloaked in a beautiful dress. At her side, two fearsome spiders. I watched her, before a wind caught my gaze and I blinked. She was gone. A vision? A friend? Or a tormentor? Thunderbird, will I know?

Sometimes I go back to that wretched place. It reminds me of something. Something I forgot. Something I lost? Its horror is its beauty. Is that wrong? To find some measure of delight in one's own tragedy? No matter how small. Perhaps, but perhaps not. Perhaps this is merely how people survive.

Entry 815 Eleint, 1354 DR
I was communing as I strolled through the grounds of the Friendly Arms Inn when I saw her. CerebellaDreambreaker. What a prophetic name, in regarding to my own self. She greeted me, and complimented my efforts on rearing Thunderspider. I spoke to her at length, us discussing the various issues with the dichotomy between the wild and civilization.

As we walked, we discussed darker things. We discussed my homeland, and her purpose. I do not think it wise to write in this journal, but it was intriguing. It would certainly be a change for the better, for many. And it involves the death of those who follow the now Spider Queen. This cannot be wrong.

We hunted together. She said she desired to test me. Likely to see how strong I am. With one who carries a purpose like hers, noone desires to have a weakling wandering beside them into battle. I was not deterred, I have never really fought beside someone like her. It was good practise. We battled a witch, dwelling within Cloakwood. She surrounded herself with undead, and put up some measure of fight. Sadly for her, we prevailed.

She fights well, with monsterous spiders at her side and a blade of pure moonlight. Luna approved of her, said that she was a beauty made flesh. Told me that she would guide my path towards a brighter one.

After the battle, we walked together. We got to know each-other better. Apperantly, she is a princess herself. A princess who can fight, who respects the Wild. When will miracles cease.

Entry 916 Eleint, 1354 DR
Many events have transpired since I last wrote. Some good, some ill. The day is just the day, in the end. Would it be balance if no ill happened?

Worm fed today. I'm not sure what the meat was. Human? Orc? Dwarf? The body has been there for some time. He has been absolutely ravenous of late. Cerebella joined him as he fed, surprisingly. Though she seemed disgusted, I think she was just trying to make me feel better. People are such oddities sometimes.

Cerebella and I encountered an orc with a staff. Some magus perhaps, though he did not seem to be familiar with spell-casting. Cerebella's brood ran him down and had themselves a feast. It was far better than he deserved, after the insults he levied with his breath. I saw more orcs, the Ranger Mendel was accosting them. It seems they are stirring in the North, likely scouting parties for raiders. The orcs retreating after sensing that they were outnumbered. Let no-one ever say that orcs are incapable of thinking.

When I went for that drink, I met a new face. Wren Di'Corvi her name was. The leader of some militant group called the "Northern Watch". I found her camp, during my excursion into the North. Many of my companions were there, Oth, Kitzy, Jadoth, Nathan. We met some new faces as well. Not much of note happened, save for Wren stabbing another orc intruder with a well-placed dagger.

Finally, I met another organization of the coast. A group of knights, named the Order of the Silver Rose. Another militant group of civilization. I am wary of them, though I doubt a time will come any time soon where they might oppose me. I doubt they care much for the deaths of orcs, loggers, miners, exotic animal traders, some sailors, and over-zealous hunters. Those kinds do indirect damage to civilization by upsetting the Wild.

After a very long day, I made my communion. I felt a stirring in the Fields of the Dead. I encountered a powerful spirit there that I was unable to best, one who even bested Cerebella. A wraith, all teeth and death. I tried to make a connection, but it is too far-gone. Rejection and despair surround it like a heavy funeral shroud. That shroud should be lit on fire.

I met another today. I'm not sure what it is. I sense nothing malicious, but from this distance who can say? It lives in shadows, preying on mantises and mosquito alike. I will have to examine this one further, and track it down. I'm honestly not sure where it lays, but I know it is in the North. I will track it down later.

The Wild is pleased. Nature has been served this day. And I served it.

I traveled with the Elder Circle last moon, and we can across my first weighted activity with them. The shrine to the Forest Queen came under some sort of rot. It was my understanding that it was due to neglect and a lack of offerings, perhaps some sort of desecration as well. Sane, Kali, myself, and a few others offered prayers and sacrifices. I offered up arrows, and a blood sacrifice. As I promised you, Motivator, I will spill my blood for the Wild.

I traveled back to the Shrine before writing this. It seems that Cerebella left her mark here. I am glad that she is keeping to the Wild still.

I met another couple travelers. A man with the breath of a dragon, and a Ffolk traveling bard. Both were very agreeable traveling companions, and both were skilled warriors. We hunted golems, and corrupted creatures of the forest together. It seems that the Fflock bard, Colin, is quite agreeable towards the wild. From what he tells me, his people are rather in-tune with it. His words of his people seem a little too good to be true. But, he does not strike me as a liar either. Perhaps they are fueled by pride, I am aware that many civilized folk are proud of their nations and do. . .'play them up' as it is said. Perhaps sometime I will find out. I should find a few books on the Ffolk people. Several sources are always better than one, and if they all say similar then that will be a miracle indeed. Perhaps he can help teach the people of the Coast how to behave properly.

Wren tried to get me drunk. She used several poisons, mixed with alcohol. Naturally, nothing affected me. Though, the taste was quite strange. Strong? Sweet, perhaps. Overloading, but sweet. It almost made me forget. How sweet an abyss can be, in times like this. We end up discussing warfare last moon. She seems to have some good ideas on how to combat the devils up in Dragonspear. She just needs more allies for her effort. I am sure she will be able to coax a few of the local forces on the Coast to her side.

You know, I never used to think golems were worrisome, until I begin seeing. Now, all I see. . .or more accurately, all I hear. . .is screaming. It feels the same as when one looks at a child, with its legs and arms removed. It can't move. It has been warped beyond all help. All it can do is wail. Inside the Phoenix Company, I saw the creatures. Inside Baldur's Gate, I saw the creatures. Wizards must truly be blind to the consequences of their magic, to create such abominations.

The more I dwell in the local civilizations, the more I grow worried for their collective future. Action will need to be taken, eventually. Some respect the Wild, and the land they have borrowed from it for their short lives. Most, do not. And this will not be tolerated forever. We must all serve nature together. And I will serve with all my body and soul.